McLagan and Peter were leaning over the vessel’s rail. Down at the steadily rising water’s edge the half-breed was standing guard on the boats lying there. In the direction of the southern headland Cy Liskard was beating a hasty retreat over the rocks.
“That pretty feller’s got it in for me, Peter, plumb up to the hilt of his longest and sharpest knife. I guess he’s a born murderer. And to me his eyes look that way. He insulted a woman up at the Speedway, and I beat him on the face and made a bit of a mess of him. Then the Aurora boys jumped in on him, and I can guess the thing that happened. It was hard letting him make a get-away. But I just couldn’t do a thing else. Besides, I’ve got a notion it’s best. Say, boy, I owe you and Sasa more than I’m likely to be able to pay in a lifetime. How’d you manage to get around on time?”
McLagan’s thanks were the deeper for the calm fashion in which they were expressed. Peter nodded and grinned.
“I’m glad we got around,” he said simply. “I cursed Sasa for hauling me from my blankets last night, but I don’t now. He’s queer, that boy. An’, gee, the pace he drove us down that creek at! You know he had a notion things were bad. First it was the darn spook on this ship which worried him. Then he passed a feller in a canoe, and reckoned he was bad. It was that guy, and I’d say he was right. He said he was the feller he’d seen crawling around the rocks at the mouth of the Lias he told us about once. Yes. He’s queer. He reckoned that feller was going down that creek for mischief, and the mischief was against you. He didn’t know. He just guessed.”
“Well, he guessed right, and”—McLagan laughed—“I’ll have to raise his wages. He’s a good boy. Say——”
He broke off thoughtfully and Peter waited. After a moment he turned from the rail.
“I got to get a stout turnscrew, and some tools out of the carpenter’s shop place.”
“What for?”
They were moving along the deck.